redfining loneliness

i went back to wheaton a few days ago. awesome at points and tough at others, it was a weekend filled with people, people, and more people. and i soaked it up. lived life large, so to speak.

i also, and consequently, crashed at several points throughout the weekend. i called my mom on Saturday (not even 24 hours into my trip, mind you) and could not help it as tears ran down my cheeks. "Mom. I don't want to go back." 

as much as i loved seeing friends whom i missed and with whom i am genuinely comfortable (which is hard to come by these days), i could not shake a particularly present and nagging feeling that in a few days i would have to return to new hampshire and leave this place so filled with faces the i recognized, so filled with community. i could not forget that soon i will jet out of o'hare and helplessly watch as the ground beneath me, a ground that seems so familiar, slowly dissent back to a ground so foreign. 

when i expressed this to those around me, i was consistently, almost repeatedly, assured that wheaton too, as a place, is foreign without the familiarity of college. that really, this weekend was a false perception of what real life is day in and day out. yeah, ryn, you're seeing a lot of people. but don't think this is normal. ryn, you should know that i, too, am struggling to find community. i, too, am lonely.

i guess part of me was encouraged by this. i know it was meant in that way and i appreciated it.

another large part of me, though, cried out in fear: "what? you're lonely too? and you are surrounded by people! what hope is there for me? an isolated youngin' in wolfeboro new hamsphire where, i swear, the average age has got to be above 50* and anything anywhere in any direction is about 40 minutes away.**"

but it is through this that i have (besides that small stubborn part of me that likes to wallow over my own sorrows. i'm sure you know what i am talking about) begun to realize that this year and - as i think i will find down the road - most of life, is all about what you, yourself make of it. what i am experiencing right now may look different than others' experiences but it is really, more or less, just a small part of my current stage of life. i have begun to realize that loneliness is present just as much in wheaton as it is in wolfeboro. that college made community and friendship easier. not easy as i should consistently be reminded, just easier. gosh. that everything up until this point made such things a wee bit easier. (i mean, preschool? man, those were the days. our lives were so balanced back then - we got education, play, and sleep all wrapped up in what we knew as a "school day.") i am realizing that struggle, confusion, isolation, and pain are commonplace in the human experience and are thus small parts of what makes up humanity in all of its glory, its ugliness, and its beauty. 

and yet, through Christ, there can thankfully be more depth in the story of humanity. for through Him comes redemption, peace, and joy. such goodness enters in and intersects our brokenness. through the cross, we are granted assurance as we see forgiveness rain down through steadfast love. and through the empty tomb, we are granted hope as we see goodness and mercy reign in faithful victory. it is this ultimate story of love, sacrifice, and triumph through which we are blessed with new perceptions and definitions. because this story changes everything. even the plight of the isolated youngin' in wolfeboro new hampshire. 

i guess in the end, what i am trying to say, is that my situation and whatever picture it attempts to paint, is what i make of it. i can define it however i chose, through a lens of sorrow or a lens of hope, although the choice is not always so straightforward. loneliness, in itself, is just a word defined though the common experience of humanity. an experience that can also be dramatically impacted by Christ if we so let it. for Christ, who's story provides hope, encouragement, peace, and ultimately community, makes all things new.

and that, in itself, provides all the comfort i need.

basically, i wish i knew more about phenomenology. or is it ontology?

"If the LORD had not been my help,
   my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence."

Psalm 94:17

*i do not think, in any way, that this is bad. it's just that... well. you know.

**also not a bad thing. it's just a fact that has hard consequences.

merton's musings

another wise man's thoughts for ya.

sorry for a lack of my own thoughts recently. i have many... just ask my mom. (ha) but i am having a hard time articulating them, especially in a somewhat interesting way.

i have been reading some thomas merton as of late. slow to jump on the bandwagon, i think, but it's better late than never. i have, in my recent circumstances, been trying to find some solace in solitude and i felt that our dear monk friend would be of some guidance. he did, in fact, live all by his lonesome self for a few years and i though that maybe, perhaps he had some wisdom that he was willing to share. his book, new seeds of contemplation, has been somewhat of a companion in this time when compansionship is direly needed.

anywho. this is not from that book but rather from a little moment of mercy i hope not to take for granted.  i found it on an old, beat up piece of card-stock down at the boathouse one random afternoon a few weeks ago. there, in the middle of the crowded, but beautiful mess that is the camp boathouse, i found a little piece of peace and grace, one that has continued to touch my soul in a much needed way.

"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and in fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that i am actually doing so. 

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone."

oh how i hope to live with such peace as merton! to live with such a complete attitude of trust and willingness. i pray that for my life - when the path seems strikingly clear. 

or not so much.

also: i have been consistently listening to this song by JJ Heller. it's incredible. you should to. (i make now promises to the quality of the youtube video... if it's silly, don't watch. this song is worth more than that.)

Limitless

i love this.

"God speaks to each of use as he makes us,

then walks with us silently out of the night. 

These are the words we dimly hear: 

You, sent out beyond your recall,

go to the limits of your longing,

Embody me. 

Flare up like a flame

and make big shadows I can move in. 

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.

Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me. 

Nearby is the country they call life.

You will know it by its seriousness. 

Give me your hand."

Rainer Maria Rilke.

ponder anew

i finally uploaded pictures on my computer.

all 1,127 of them. while some of them were taken today, some were also taken in may...

oh well.


the edit process has begun. but since that will take awhile, here are some for you to enjoy. hopefully you will get a taste of my surroundings... more to come, i'm sure.

p.s. sorry for the lack of formatting. i'm still figuring this new template out. blah blogger, you confuse me.

I love this color of fall...

leaves, leaves...

and more beautiful leaves.

i wish you could hear this...

i found some water.

my attempts at a self portrait. holga 135, 35mm

also holga 135, 35mm

the unforeseen aspects of small town livin'

two things that, as of late, are making my day:

1. contra dancing.
2. the tuftonboro county bluegrass jam.

why yes. these are weekly events.

and yes, i will be a'partakin. words cannot express my new found enthusiasm for life in wolfeboro, nh.

living the question

in a recent attempt to ward off an emotional breakdown, i found myself reading down by the lake on this rather beautiful fall day. i mean, seriously. we do not deserve this kind of weather. the leaves have already begun to change and yet it is still at least 65 degrees. goodness. 

anyways. i have been reading rainer rilke, whose poetry i love. but, thanks to a dear friend, i have been going through rilke's letters to a young poet. and truly, i cannot really express the ways the Lord has been using this tiny little book to speak such peace into my heart. in short, it has been tremendously appreciated in this time. 

i found this passage particularly relevant and beautiful.

"You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you,
as much as i can, to be patient
towards all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the
questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign 
tongue. Do not now seek the answers,
which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them.
 And the point is, to live everything. 
Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, 

without noticing it,

live along some distant day into the answer."

that's what i am hoping for... to live the questions and through that, to hopefully rest in His peace, despite the unknown and the hurt that comes with questions. 

 

Lord, have mercy on me.

when the lights go out...

we had no power the other night. apparently, when you live in a remote location, power outages are not only to be expected, but forgiven as a semi-basic occurrence. thanks for telling me.

true to my oblivious self, it took me awhile to realize the power was out. we had come back from a more than interesting staff day at the state fair (i know, right?) and i honestly thought nothing of all the lights being off. lack of company, with all of its quietness and stillness, also promises a lack of electricty, i have found; it's going to be, literally, a dark year i suppose.

it wasn't until i wanted to turn the light on that i realized, with a frustrated flick flick flickity flick, that i wasn't actually going to be able to turn on the lights.

well shoot.

the gravity of my discovery began to hit me in waves: no, i was not going to be able to heat up the soup i was hoping to eat for dinner. no i was not going to be able to get on my computer (i didn't charge it before i left... bummer). no i was not going to be able to get on the internet. no i was not going to be able to blog about my lovely state fair experience. and, worst of all, no i was not going to be able to watch modern family.

no. no. no no no no. and with the sun sinking steadily behind the tree line, i was going to be stuck inside a dark and, may i mention, cold house that was only going to get darker and colder.

the boys built a fire while i proceeded to throw a bit of tantrum. what are we supposed to do? do they know when the power is going to be turned on? has anyone called the electric company? and what about the generators? the food in the refrigerators? wait everyone older than 24 left? wait. no. the boys looked helplessly at me while i freaked out. they suggested a headlamp and a book. i resigned, grabbed the aforementioned items, some lukewarm yogurt for dinner, and sat down in a huff.

this. was. not. ok.

i calmed down eventually, enough to get some kerosene lanterns lit so i could head up to my room. i got ready for bed by lantern light, layering layer upon layer to ward off a now heater-less chill. i felt like i was living straight out of the 1800s. which, i finally admitted, was kinda cool. i was actually a bit thankful for the night of no electricity. i liked the chapter i read and was actually able to journal a bit. all in all, it was a nice evening. and, to make it even better, the electricity came back on before i went to bed. i have yet to be more thankful for my cranky old heater.

it must be noted that it wasn't necessarily the lack of electricity that was bothering me. ok, maybe a little bit. the idea of going to bed without knowing the time (no phone service, remember) and without heat was, in fact, getting to me. rather, i have realized that it was more the kink thrown into my schedule that prompted the tantrum. i had my night all planned out and within five minutes, the entirety of that plan had burned up in the fire we built to keep warm.

this realization had been nagging on me for most of the week. i mean, am i really that set on plans, on schedules, on self-ordained order that i struggle to enjoy a spontaneous, quiet night by the fire? what's more, i should begin to ask myself, is this how approach all of my life? how am i supposed to allow the Lord's direction, His will, and His Lordship in my life if i can't allow a bit of His improv. i have bought into this lie of culture that my life has to planned. it has to be scheduled. it has to be going somewhere with meaning, with gusto, and with pace. get a 'good' grade. get a 'good' job. get a 'good' salary. get a 'good' spouse. get a 'good' family. i schedule my life so much to match the runnings of the world that i speed right by the peace i can find in the life that i am promised in the Word. and eventually, i get so caught up in how i want my life to go, or even worse how the world tells me it should go, that i miss out on Who, instead, i should be following.

as of late, the past few days, past few weeks, past few months of my life hasn't necessarily gone the way i planned it to go. or, even, how i wanted it to go. yes i can see the wonderful things have been gained in this whole process but in the jostle of pace and changes of plans, many things have also been lost. and i have found it hard not to throw a fit. i am so tempted to ask what, how, and why and to wish things were different. i often find myself hoping for my planned life to come magically back instead of accepting the one that has been given to me. 

instead of trusting that, maybe, a kink in my plan could reveal a spontaneous beauty in His.

pray for me, please. i am finding it hard to trust.

    But as for me, my prayer is to you, O LORD.
        At an acceptable time, O God,
        in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness.
(Psalm 69:13)

oh how i love e.e. cummings

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old
  
may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young
  
and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

 

e.e. cummings 

 

his words seem to better express my hopes for this year.

lessons so far...

1. mumford and sons is so much better on vinyl.

2. anything, really, is better on vinyl.

3. camp food is great... until you've had it consistently for more than two months. time to get creative; cooking tips are more than welcome.

4. on that note, just because its available, free, and easy to retrieve does not mean that you should eat it... if you want to fit into your jeans at the end of the year, you really should lay off the ice cream.

5. running is fun when you have nothing else to do.

6. having a lot of time does not necessarily equate productivity. discipline is a character trait not easily learned, especially when google, facebook, and espn are literally awaiting your fingertips. 

7. the heater below where you hang your scarves can, and will, try to burn them. watch out.

8. you really can have too many cardigans.